


Of Breadsticks and Bellamy

by octaviaromanoff (sapphicleksa)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Angry Clarke, Bellamy Blake is a History & Mythology Nerd, Blind Date, Drunk Clarke, F/M, First Dates, Matchmaker Raven, Modern Setting Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Nerd Bellamy Blake, Tumblr Memes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4442168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicleksa/pseuds/octaviaromanoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven sets Clarke up on a date with Bellamy, Bellamy is late, Clarke stuffs her face (and purse).</p>
<p>(Inspired by the illustrious breadsticks meme)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Breadsticks and Bellamy

Clarke refreshed her twitter feed for the fifth time in the last minute, frowning at her phone (and the lack of activity online), and trying to look concentrated and serious, like she wasn’t sitting alone at a table for two at an Olive Garden, and the waitress hadn’t already come over twice to refill her water and check to see if the missing party had arrived.

She was going to kill Raven. It had all seemed great in theory: a guy she’d never met but who was apparently gorgeous (Wick hadn’t even looked like he was joking when he nodded along as Raven described Bellamy Blake’s beauty), a nice dinner at her guilty-pleasure favorite restaurant, a night enjoying herself and forgetting all about the asshole she’d broken up with a week ago. For all his supposed good looks, however, this Bellamy had to be either a jerk or an idiot to be thirty minutes late on a first date.

Another breadstick found its way into her hand, then her mouth, disappearing a few quick, nervous bites; it had been a while since she’d been on a first date, and while her annoyance was certainly mounting the longer she sat here alone, so too was her worry, and her more-than-slight agitation. She reached into the basket yet again, but found it disappointingly empty. 

The waitress, a perky brunette, approached with a bright smile. “Can I get you anything while you wait?” The way her eyes darted towards the empty seat implied that she doubted anyone was coming.

Clarke sighed. “A bottle of the Coppola Cabernet Sauvignon.” She didn’t even have to look at the menu; she’d read it front and back three times after the first fifteen minutes of Bellamy’s absence. She ignored the waitress’s slightly raised eyebrow: was she really going to drink the whole bottle by herself? (The answer: a solid yes.) “And more breadsticks, please.”

Fifteen minutes, two glasses of wine, a basket of breadsticks, and a bathroom phone call to Raven later, and he still hadn’t shown up. 

“I really don’t think he’s coming.”

“He is; I told him to.”

“It’s been almost an hour, this is _embarrassing_ , this was a good idea, but —”

“Suck it up, Clarke,” Raven huffed. The growl of an engine came faintly in the background. “He’s worth it, I promise.”

“Raven.”

“Okay, wait ten more minutes; if he’s not there by then, text me, and _I’ll_ come take you out.” A pause, silence. “Clarke, you there? What do you think?”

“ _Fine_.” She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile in her voice. Oh Raven. “But ten minutes, not a second more.”

“Sure, sure, if he wasn’t so perfect for you, I’d have told you to leave thirty minutes ago. Wait, Wick!” She yelled away from the phone, but Clarke could still hear every word. “Where in hell did you move my wrench? I _told_ you not to touch my tools!”

Clarke’s smile grew, not that Raven could see it. “I’ll let you get back to holy matrimony. Thanks, Raven; you’re awesome.”

“Yeah, I know. Too bad my idiot engineer of a husband isn’t — it’s not _in_ my toolbox, that’s why I’m _yelling_ at you!” 

Clarke ended the call, knowing Raven was too busy putting Wick in his place to do so, and slipped her phone back in her purse. She leaned towards the mirror and sighed. Her dark circles were still visible despite concealer, souvenirs from late nights studying, painting, and, more recently, waking up in nightmare-induced cold sweats. But this wasn’t about that, she told herself adamantly; this was about enjoying herself, and she’d be damned if some guy ruined that for her. She didn’t need anyone else to eat food that was passably-Italian and breadsticks that were gifts from the Lord.

Determination written on her face and in the stubborn line of her chin, Clarke went back to her (still-empty) table, flagged down her waitress, and ordered, Bellamy be damned; if she had to wait for him, he could stand to wait for his food. “I’ll take the Tiramisu, an order of Zeppoli, and more breadsticks, please.”

“…is the other member of your party coming?” She still seemed to think this was a no, and Clarke was inclined to agree. 

“Possibly, but he won’t mind waiting to order.”

“Alright; your food should be out shortly, and I’ll of course bring you those breadsticks.”

Clarke glanced at the heavy silver watch on her wrist and took a sip of wine. _7 minutes._ Well, that was why she’d gotten two desserts; one for Raven when she showed up, since she would certainly need it after arguing with Wick. It certainly wasn’t because Clarke planned on eating them both herself. No, that would just be ridiculous, simply outrageous. And, even in the completely, wildly unlikely event that Clarke _did_ manage to eat them both, at least there would still be some wine left over for Raven to drown her sorrows in, and the breadsticks were, thankfully, bottomless, else her friend might’ve been out of luck there.

She buried her face in her phone again, scrolling with her right hand while her left handled an abnormally large breadstick. Would she ever get sick of those things? Doubtful. So engrossed was she in the kittens, beaches, and food pics of Instagram, that she didn’t look up when the boy sat down across from her, not until he cleared his throat for the second time, louder than the first.

_1 minute._ Damn. She’d basically given up waiting for him, and to show up now, 54 minutes after their prearranged time, was almost more insulting than if he’d never bothered. Clarke scowled as she lifted her gaze from an especially adorable puppy, though she had to work to keep the dour expression on her face when she laid eyes on the messy hair and warm eyes of the boy across from her. Raven hadn’t been exaggerating.

“You’re a little late,” she remarked dryly.

He looked like he certainly had something to say to that, but he was interrupted by the waitress, laden with Clarke’s desserts, a fresh basket of breadsticks, and a menu. “Here you go, miss. And take as long as you need to order.” Did she _wink_ at him? Clarke didn’t know why she felt the sudden surge of possessiveness; he’d come this close to standing her up, it wasn’t like they were dating. 

She took a bite out of her tiramisu. _Pretty decent._ “So why were you late?”

Bellamy swallowed, and she noticed with some annoyance that he looked adorable when he was flustered. “My little sister Octavia got stranded, her car broke down, she tried to fix it but didn’t have the parts, so I had to go get her and drive her home. My phone died or I would’ve let you know.” He held up a very-dead phone as proof.

Hm. That wasn’t a horrible excuse. It could’ve been the wine, and it could’ve been irritation with the fact that she did indeed find him attractive, but some stubborn part of her wanted to keep being prickly, to get him back for making her sit her alone and unsure for nearly an hour. She shoved a bite of tiramisu in her mouth almost angrily. “I missed the season premiere of Game of Thrones for this; I hope you’re happy.”

He grimaced, at her words or sharp tone she couldn’t tell. “Sorry, I guess…I’m actually not a fan.”

That did it for her; if she needed a reason to get out of here now, this was it. Clarke could do without the tiramisu, wine would be too difficult to take in an emergency such as this, but the breadsticks? Not a chance. “Sorry, I have to go home, right now, immediately,” she said, shoving breadsticks into her purse.

“Of the show, the books are so complex and great, I just think the show left out too many plotlines and really ignored a lot of the history and world building of Westeros,” he finished, frowning as Clarke froze with a fist full of breadsticks lowered into her purse.

Well that changed things. She couldn’t have missed the way his face lit up when explaining why he loved the books even if she’d tried. It was endearing, and sweet, and maybe…maybe she was being a jerk. She could give him another chance, right? Slowly removing the breadsticks from her purse, she said, actually meeting his deep, passionate eyes for the first time that night, “Go on.”


End file.
